If inconvenient, come anyway
by MelodyPond-RiverSong
Summary: Sherlock musters up the courage to ask John the most important question of his life. "Will you marry me?" Will he manage to? And what will John say? Johnlock. Purely Fluff. Chapter two is up!
1. An important question

**Hello! This story is inspired by a post on Tumblr, which I sadly cannot find again. **** It's also dedicated to my best friend Elise!**

**It's a oneshot, but I might do a small series of oneshots continued on from this.**

**Summary: Sherlock musters up the courage to ask John the most important question of his life. "Will you marry me?" Will he manage to? And what will John say?**

**Pairings: Johnlock, duh!**

**Disclaimer: God, I wish!**

Sherlock played with the blue velvet box. It was tiny, yet it held so much hope. What would he say? Would he say anything? Would Sherlock even be brave enough to ask? Of course he would be brave enough to ask. He was Sherlock Holmes! He had faced the Golem, the "proper genius" cabbie, Jim Moriarty. He had even pretended to be dead for three years, just to save the man he loved. Of course he could propose to John Watson. He heard the front door unlock and sat up, hiding the box in his coat pocket. "John, you're finally home!" He cried, getting up of the couch and stepping over the coffee table.

"Busy day; lots of patients," John replied, setting down his shopping. "I got milk," He added, holding up the carton. Sherlock smiled slightly at their inside joke.

"Thanks," He gave John a kiss on the cheek, and walked towards the bedroom. He opened the door for John. "Get dressed, we're going out."

"What, like a date?" John chuckled, another inside joke. He headed into the other room, and started to go through his clothes. Sherlock closed the door to give him a little privacy.

"That's what I was suggesting!"

As they entered Angelo's, Sherlock nervously fiddled with the ring box. "You all right, Sherlock?" asked John.

"Fine, fine, sorry. Just... thinking about a case," The pause was un-noticeable to anyone but Sherlock and his partner. John frowned, but wouldn't let it spoil their night. He would ask again when they got home. They sat at their usual spot by the window, looking on to 22 Northumberland St. They ordered their meals, and Angelo brought them a candle, "to make it more romantic," just like their first "date" there. Sherlock ate quietly, often looking up at his lover to decide when the right time to ask him was. Finally, when they were finished and waiting for their deserts, Sherlock made up his mind. As John looked out the window, Sherlock held the box in his hand, still hidden by his coat pocket. "John," He began. When John turned to him, he kept talking. "When we first came here, I told you I was married to my work. That's still true," John's face fell slightly, confused. "And, John, without you, without your blog, I would have not nearly as many clients. So, really, you _are_ my work. So, John," Sherlock kneeled on the floor, holding out the box and flipping it open. John's eyes widened. "Will you marry me?" John stared.

"Sherlock…" he trailed off, and then reacted the same way he had when he found out Sherlock was alive. By kissing him hard on the lips. (Well, when he found out he was alive, he punched him first. But not this time, luckily!) Everyone else in the restaurant clapped as they broke away so Sherlock could put the ring on John. It was a simple silver band, with the inscription 'Come at once, if convenient' on it. "If inconvenient…" Whispered John, looking at it, then blinking up at Sherlock, eyes glistening with tears. Sherlock's moist, bright blue eyes met his as he finished off the quote, smiling.

"…Come anyway."


	2. Telling the news

John twisted the ring on his finger as Sherlock hung up the phone. "Lestrade," Sherlock said simply. "Murder, 23 year old female. Come on," he smiled at his now fiancé. John hopped off the couch and intertwined his hand with Sherlock's, their matching rings touching slightly. Sherlock grinned. "Will we tell them?"

"If they ask," his partner led him down the steps.

When they arrived at the crime scene, Lestrade instantly noticed something was different. There was a reason he was Detective Inspector. Sherlock and John had kept their relationship out of the public eye, much like Sherlock himself had been trying to do recently, only solving low profile cases. Lestrade was one of the few people who knew that the two were more than work partners. As Sherlock was examining the body closely, Greg pulled John away to ask him. "Hey, John," he began. "Is there something… different, with you and Sherlock?" Sherlock looked up and strode over, pulling off his white gloves.

"Anderson, check the wall near her. If there's a scratch about one metre up, it was her _fiancé_, with the axe in the woodshed." He chucked the gloves on the floor as Anderson scurried over to the wall, scowling. Sherlock smiled at Lestrade. Greg looked confused for a second, then realization dawned on him.

"Oh! Congratulations!" He grinned, pulling John into a hug. He extended a hand to Sherlock, but Sherlock gave him a warm hug as well. Lestrade laughed. "That's great! Molly will insist on planning everything, when you tell her. She did for our wedding!" (AN: Yes, I ship Mollstrade. If you don't like it, too bad. Mycroft's taken, anyway. All will be explained…)

Sherlock laughed. "We had sort of counted on it. She and Mrs. Hudson would be the only ones for the job!"

"Mrs. Hudson would kill us if she wasn't doing it." John smiled. "Thanks, Greg. Just… Don't tell them," He jabbed his thumb over at Anderson and Donovan.

"Wouldn't dream of it," The detective inspector put his hand on his heart.

Sherlock smiled. "They're competent at investigating, so they'll figure it out at some point. Now, the case. Anderson's found the scratch a metre up. The victim is a petite, and not very strong, woman. The ring indicates she's engaged and the footsteps around the garden are clearly not hers, they are a male's of around her age. Could be a brother, not likely, as the shoe size matches the male shoes near the door. The scratch is from a wood axe, the one in the garden shed, in fact. Now, if you don't mind, we'll be going to see Molly."

Greg smiled. "Alright then. Tell her to take it easy, I don't want her getting stressed out. It's bad for the baby."

When the door to Molly's lab swung open, she looked up from what she was studying intently. When she saw Sherlock and John, she waddled over, beaming. "You look too happy, Sherlock." She began. "What's the good news?" She looked down at Sherlock and John's linked hands and saw their rings shining in the afternoon sun. "Oh, wow! That's great!" She pulled both boys into a large hug over her swollen belly. "I'm so happy for you!" She wiped her damp eyes, laughing. "Damn hormones," She muttered.

"We were wondering, could you help Mrs. Hudson organize the wedding?" John asked, and Molly nodded.

"Oh, really John? Of course, I'd love to! When will it be?"

"We're not sure yet." Sherlock replied. "Sometime in March."

"Three months! I'll get to it!" Molly laughed. "Let me guess, you want something to do with detectives?"

Sherlock and John both chuckled. "Yeah,"

"Spot on,"

"Who else?" John asked as they got out onto the street.

"Just Mycroft. He can tell Mummy." Sherlock hailed a cab.

"Are you ever going to speak to her again?" John asked, getting in. "You can't just ignore her forever."

"I can and I will." Said Sherlock stubbornly. "She didn't come to my funeral. The Diogenes club, please."

The cabbie gave them a strange look through the rearview mirror, but drove anyway. He obviously didn't recognize Sherlock without 'The Hat'.

"She was probably too distraught." John offered.

Sherlock gave him a look. "Oh, please. She's a Holmes. Holmes's don't get 'too distraught'. She couldn't care less about me or my brother."

John looked out the window. "So I guess you were faking it, when you were on that roof." He said quietly.

Sherlock pursed his lips. "John, please, you know I didn't mean it like that! I love you."

John looked back and smiled. "I know. I just wanted you to say it again." He leaned over and gave his fiancé a peck on the cheek, before getting out of his side door.

When they got inside, Mycroft took one look at them before leading them into his private office. "Congratulations," He said as soon as they were inside. John didn't even bother to ask how. He was a Holmes, after all.

"You too, brother." Sherlock smiled. Anthea had just walked through the room, her left hand resting on her nine month pregnant belly, engagement ring winking under the light globe. "Glad you finally proposed to her. Do you even know her real name?"

Mycroft chuckled. "Of course I do. But that's between her and me."

When the two finally got home, it was dark. Sherlock took off his coat and scarf, chucking them on the couch. John yawned, stretching his arms up, then around Sherlock, resting his head on the taller man's chest. "Love you," He whispered.

"I love you too, John." Sherlock guided them towards the bedroom.

"And Sherlock." John mumbled. "I'll always be there, even if it's dangerous." He smiled. "Especially if it's dangerous."


End file.
